


The Availability of Absent Souls

by centroid



Category: Phan
Genre: M/M, suicide note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centroid/pseuds/centroid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But thats another thing. We all have options, and we have to rely on other people’s options to make our own.<br/>So really, I knew I’d be writing this note the second you shut me out. I planned it all, Phil.<br/>Don’t even think I’m blaming this on you, Phil. I would never, I could never. I told you I loved you, and you had your option. Now I have mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> its written as someone who is about to take their life would be. its jagged, angry, somber, a little indecisive and repetitive. and it was intended like that.

Dear Phil.

I never thought I’d actually write this note.  
Well, I never thought that, along with the pile of shit my life has led up to, I’d just be faced by more shit.  
People say it gets better, you know? Wait it out, you’ll find your escape, you’ll find your sunshine.

But thats another thing. We all have options, and we have to rely on other people’s options to make our own.  
So really, I knew I’d be writing this note the second you shut me out. I planned it all, Phil.  
Don’t even think I’m blaming this on you, Phil. I would never, I could never. I told you I loved you, and you had your option. Now I have mine.

This could count as cowardice, or spite or anything really. But we both knew I wouldn’t make it the year without someone to lean on.  
The lean on became rely on, and that became love.  
I put my all into you, and us. But maybe, just fucking once, could something go my way?  
I’ve wished on 11:11, 1:11, 2:22, every fucking time there is but nothing can go my way, can it?  
Rhetorical question. Don’t answer that.

I’ve felt empty since I was 13, Phil. So please don’t blame yourself.  
Because as much as I want to scream in your face and kick the wall and tear my own hair out in frustration, its just not your fault.

I let myself fall, and I can’t get up (he needs life alert)  
I can’t pick myself back up, Phil.

When we started talking, I felt like I finally had someone to confide in, a real, true friend.  
But thats all bull shit, Phil.  
Everything in life is. Bull. Shit.  
“Theres a light at the end of the tunnel”  
I was on the edge of a black hole and fell back in, Phil.  
“It gets better”  
It can’t get any worse.  
“you just have to fight through it”  
What if I don’t want to?  
I accepted death a long time ago, Phil. But you came in like a fucking tornado. You destroyed my plans of destruction, and let me build a wall that leans on you. I thought I could leave my black hole behind and start something to really care about Phil.

The only thing I can blame on you is that you let me think that.  
When I said “I love you” you said it back.

When I looked at you like you were my all, you let me look at you like that.

You agreed to meet me in real life.  
We shared chaste kisses that made my heart soar. You agreed when I voiced this.  
You gave me an escape, a reason when you knew I had nothing more, and for that I thank you, my dearest Phil.  
You knew I was giving my all that I never had into you, and my only question, is why?

I was naïve, and you weren’t.

So I wrote this for you.

I’m sorry, Phil. I’m sorry that I’m naïve and you aren’t. I’m sorry I doubt every move I make.  
I’m sorry that I burdened you with my feelings.  
But I’m not sorry for accepting the thought that you felt the same.  
Any smitten fool would make the same mistake.

I’m sorry for loving you. Even in months and never meeting in real life.  
But when we did, your body, seeing it, feeling it. It was real, Phil.  
It was the first real fucking thing I’ve felt in years, and you can’t hate me for holding onto that.

But it isn’t real. Then heres my point. This decision isn’t made on you, per say. I was like this before. I just thought I wouldn’t have to be like this all my life, so I had an option. And i chose to take a fucking chance, ok? Sue me. OH wait, you can’t.  
I’m dead.

After I got back to my own home, my castle of invisible lies and empty shells, you cut me out. Not responding to Skype, Twitter, Facebook, your phone.  
You ended my life line.  
And that was your choice.

So I’m making space where a soul could be.  
And I’m fucking sobbing while writing this fucking letter to you Phil, because when I got off that train and ran into your arms and felt how real you felt, with your gorgeous laugh in my ear, I thought I was dreaming. No reality could be that good, right?  
Im asking myself if you really did cut me out.  
I’m asking the stars and the fucking God that isn’t fucking real how our first meeting and this could both be real.  
In a matter of days.

And I know this whole thing is shit I’m a fucking 18 year old that is fucked up in all kinda ways. I’m feeling so many things and I can’t write them all down, Phil, that would take a book.  
And time I don’t have.

So maybe I am blaming you, and forgiving you at the same time Phil.  
I was like this before you, Phil.

The only thing that came of this, was my choice.

So I will die loving you, weather you fucking like it or not, Phil.  
But I forgive you, and I love you, asshole.

My only wish is that you felt the same as me, like you said.  
And that you gave me a reason.  
But I can think of a few.

Who wants to be in a relationship with an unstable wreck whose life depends on you?  
No one loves a broken kid.

I fucking hate you, Lester.  
But I love you so much more.  
The pain of living with you ignoring me is too much to bare.  
Don’t feel bad though, I would have done this if we never met.  
You saved me, and destroyed me.

So I’m gone, I’m dead.  
I’m sorry for loving you, Philip Michael Lester. I’m sorry.  
But never once will I regret it.

Maybe in a different timeline,  
Our choices were different.

Heres a choice. Think I’m blaming you or forgiving you. Pick one, chose one.  
And act on one.  
We both know we have that ability.  
Remember me in my Absence, Phil.  
Or not.  
Your choice.

-Daniel James Howell


	2. The Probability of a Broken Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'As by my request, letters have been sent out to my friends and family after my death. I have written these to personally say goodbye.  
>  ~Dan'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as requested, part 2

When Phil received the letter, he was confused.

Upon further investigation, he learned something important. He already knew the letter was from Dan, it said so on the front.

What he found on the paper folded into 3rd’s was not that it had Dan’s name scrawled onto it- but what it had written above that.

_As by my request, letters have been sent out to my friends and family after my death. I have written these to personally say goodbye to everyone._

_~Dan_

The words had impacted Phil like that of bullet, piercing his heart without mercy.

He knew what he had been doing was wrong. He lead such a naive boy along, stringing him into believing what Phil fed him.

Phil was confused, in more way than one. He hadn't known if he wanted to be with Dan, and his mind kept telling him that if he didn’t end it, he would fall in too deep. He didn’t want heartbreak for himself later on- of any cause. Little did he know that he gave them both that curse.

Not only had he not read any of the letter yet- his shaking limbs preventing any sudden actions to be taken smoothly, but he _knew_ Dan, along with the fact that this was not a joke, as he wished it could have been.

Just because he was being an ass, didn’t mean anyones life should be used up before its time.

When Phil finally got the letter open, he had to steady himself on the counter, shaking with embarrassment for his own actions.

When Phil read the letter, he was crying.

He never knew how much his actions could have broken such a corrupt boy, and felt devastated that his actions caused this. Not his actions alone, as stated in the letter, but he could have prevented this. He could have been Dan’s reason to live. He could have _helped_ Dan, instead of worrying about himself. 

Phil’s mind, in that moment, made a promise to himself- that he would not soon break.

_If even one person needs someone, anyone, I can be that someone, just for a little while. I can help next time._

~~~

And so, making a choice out of his mistake (that he deeply regretted each and every day), the black haired boy switched careers, working instead at a suicide prevention facility, helping people over the phone and in person wrestle their inner demons.

He wrote letters back to Dan all the time, like he was still alive, like Phil never broke their chance. As if their timeline together was frozen in a place where Dan was back home texting Phil, surrounded in bliss, and Phil was happy with his choices. Each letter is kept in a single dark brown envelope that will never be sent, feeling more like cardboard then flimsy paper.

Each letter was signed as follows.

_I made a choice. I love you, Dan. I’m sorry._

_Remember me in your absence._

_Or not._

_Your choice._

**~Philip Michael Lester**


	3. The Susceptibility of a Mended Muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking at his electronic, he realized it was Phil. His heart missed a beat, his head temporarily pounded, his vision faded for a second. He was looking away and looking back to make sure that it was real.  
> It was.  
> “I thought I was gonna get hurt. Funny right? I didn’t want heartbreak."  
> “I love you too, asshole.” He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops i told someone that this was going to be out maybe 4 days ago whoops well i know its short and ill write another one if anyone wants one. like an epilogue kinda after the whole dilemma. Not saying suicide should be taken lightly. It's a serious topic and in no way am i putting it down or trying to make it seem petty.

Phil woke up with a frantic scream, sitting up into the dark room.

Sweat was clinging to his body like a leech, draining his energy with pants and gasps.

_Dan._

His mind was screaming at him for his mistake, the biggest one of his life.

He hoped with everything he had-hell, he prayed to any god that might be there, _please don’t let it be too late._

Phil knew that it was a dream. Of course it was a _dream_ , but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be real. He hopes with all of his being that it isn’t real, but his mind was telling him it was too real.

The situation was too close to his racing heart.

Phil knew Dan was depressed and Phil knew that Dan had been suicidal before, so why the fuck would he even think about leaving him alone when he obviously cared about the brunette.

_“And I’m fucking sobbing while writing this fucking letter to you Phil, because when I got off that train and ran into your arms and felt how real you felt, with your gorgeous laugh in my ear, I thought I was dreaming. No reality could be that good, right?”_

__

Dan I hope this is just a dream. No reality could be this bad.

~~~

Phil’s letter was the last one Dan planned to write. He wanted writing that to be the last pain he would have to experience.

He had just signed his name at the end, when his phone rang, startling him out of his self loathing.

Looking at his electronic, he realized it was Phil. His heart missed a beat, his head temporarily pounded, his vision faded for a second. He was looking away and looking back to make sure that it was real.

It was.

He answered with a shaking breath and tears making their down his face, leaving marks of desperation in his wake.

“Hello?” Dan whispered, not wanting to draw attention or humiliate himself further than he apparently already had.

“Dan, thank god. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m stupid, I don’t deserve you,” Phil sobbed, choking on his own words, “but I’m so sorry. I love you. Please don’t do anything bad, please.” Phil took a shuttering breath, understanding if Dan just said “fuck you,” but he didn’t.

“Phil.” Dan breathed, fresh tears running away from his eyes in happiness. “Phil, why? Why now?”

“I thought I was gonna get hurt. Funny right? I didn’t want heartbreak. I thought it would end badly because I was falling for you and I already have. I love you, Dan. I never faked it. I was just scared my heart would get broken. I’ve never loved someone so much and I’m terrified. I had a dream you died Dan, you- you killed yourself and that was the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. You wrote a note and I was crying and I still am. I fucking love you and I’m scared shitless by that. But I can’t live without you in my life. Not right now and I hope not ever.”

“Phil.” Dan laughed in the middle of a sob, something so melancholy it was like a drum beating in Phil’s ears. “I love you, idiot. Don’t do that again.”

“I’m buying a train ticket as we speak. I need to see you- fuck Dan I love you.”

“I love you too, asshole.” He smiled.

Dan threw away all of the letters. 


End file.
